Tricks of the Trade
by Sapphire Insanity
Summary: A bored Fullmetal Alchemist is never a good thing, as Mustang is quickly learning.


**Tricks of the Trade**

**A/N; **Just a little something that I worked on for April Fools day in between working on the next chapter of _One Heart, Full Mind,_ which _will_ be updated soon, and I'm glad I managed to get it out on time. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

**Disclaimer; **I don't own Fullmetal Alchemistm unfortunately.

FULLMETALALCHEMIST

Roy Mustang had once been absolutely certain that everyone was far too awed and/or afraid of him to even think about playing any sort of tricks on him (or, in Hawkeye's case, too stoic to do so). He had been _sure_ that anyone who had thought they could dare would end up running scared until he eventually caught them, intimidated them into owning up, and then gave them the most distasteful duties he could think of.

As he gazed at his once comfortable desk chair and listened to the fading sound of an almost maniacal cackle he realised that he had forgotten to factor in Edward Elric.

Edward wasn't scared of him, or awed by his very presence, and he was usually positively gleeful when things collapsed on his superior officer (both figuratively and literally sometimes) as long as it wasn't life-threatening. He was also a volatile teenager who had been forced to stay in East City due to a lack of leads or missions for him, with nothing to do except read the stuff he had already been through. A bored Edward, Mustang was quickly find out the hard way, was extremely dangerous for his health.

It had started out when Mustang had ordered the boy to go and get him a coffee, completely fed up with his moping around the office. It had been a relatively simple request, and it had given Edward a chance to stretch his legs. In return he got something to keep him awake as he completed the tedious drivel in front of him. The coffee had come back, however, with salt in it instead of sugar and he had been met with the far too innocent denial of knowledge after he had spit out the mouthful he had gulped and furiously called the obvious perpetrator into his office.

It had just gone downhill from there.

Not long after that incident Mustang's pen had broken the moment he had tried to use it, spilling ink all over his paperwork. This had the very unfortunate (though likely hilarious for the young alchemist) side-effect of Hawkeye believing he had done it on purpose and forcing him to go and retrieve fresh paperwork for himself. Edward's smug smile had been not-quite hidden behind his book when he had returned.

Then there had been the time when his desk had simply collapsed when he had leaned on it as he was sternly telling off a private for misconduct. Not only had he been thoroughly embarrassed but it was clear that the private was desperately with-holding laughter and the story was all over the base within the hour.

Edward had barely escaped his flames after that one.

Now, as Mustang gazed at his chair, he almost simply turned around and walked back out again, not wanting to deal with it. Not only was he sure the chair would be unable to hold his weight, but the twisted sense of design could only belong to Edward. On top of that the chair had been turned bright pink.

It was really getting to the point where Mustang was desperately keeping an eye out every day for something – _anything_ – that he could use to get the kid out of his hair. He had just barely prevented himself from sending him out to help with border control near Aerugo (and that opinion was still hovering at the edge of his consciousness) because he had known Alphonse and Hawkeye would never forgive him if he did it. Unfortunately for Edward, he was quickly getting to the stage where he didn't care.

"Lieutenant Havoc said that he thought brother had been in here this morning."

Mustang could have cried with relief at that moment when he turned to see the hulking suit of armour that housed Alphonse Elric's soul. Gentle, polite and understanding, Mustang _far_ preferred dealing with the younger Elric normally, but he had lately become a godsend. Usually he appeared not long after his older brother had struck, fixing whatever Edward had done. The fact that he had appeared _now_ of all times...

Truthfully Mustang likely wouldn't have been so upset about the decimation of his chair. He knew Alphonse was never far behind, and he would be able to catch Edward later. But General Grumman was due for a very important meeting between the two of them in half an hour, and the damage had to be fixed before then.

"Yes, he has," Mustang sighed, calming down as he realised Grumman wouldn't walk into the havoc Edward had caused that morning. "Your brother has become a hurricane of chaos lately."

"He's just bored," Alphonse said with a shrug as he spied the monstrosity that barely deserved to be called a chair and walked over to kneel next to it, beginning to draw a circle around it. "And frustrated that there are no leads."

"Believe me, if I had one for him I'd hand it over as soon as possible," Mustang grimaced, not quite wanting to tell Alphonse that his brother had become an utter nuisance.

Not that he wasn't a nuisance generally, but he had always been a _useful_ nuisance. With the lack of anything to do all his smarts were going into thinking up the next prank, which wasn't good for anyone.

There was a brief flare of alchemy as Alphonse touched his hands to the carefully drawn circle and then his chair was back to normal once more. Mustang released a relieved sigh.

"Thank you, Alphonse," he said.

"I do apologise for brother," Alphonse said, standing.

"Why is he focusing on me?" Mustang asked as he strode over to his desk and ran a critical eye over it, looking for anything out of place.

"He comes here every day, I guess it's just easy," Alphonse replied, carefully lifting the tin of pens in case there was an activated circle hidden under it.

"Or he just hates me that much," Mustang suggested, opening his draw quickly and jumping back on the off chance something was in there; with Edward one could never know.

"No, he doesn't hate you."

Mustang decided that everything looked in order (though, knowing Edward, that wasn't really the best indicator that everything was fine) and raised an eyebrow at Alphonse. That had not been the response he had been expecting, and the young boy sounded sincere when he said it. Mustang knew, however, that Edward Elric was well-known at East City for his hatred of all things military and Mustang always seemed to receive that ire ten times over.

"If you say so," Mustang said rather than express the disbelief he was currently feeling.

Not that he really needed to hide it, because the armoured by likely already that it was there. Alphonse was as empathetic as Edward was not, and he seemed able to innately understand what others felt. Perhaps it was because he had found himself unable to express his own emotions so looked for subtle cues in others. Or perhaps he had just had far too much experience in dealing with his emotionally inept brother.

"If brother didn't feel comfortable in your presence he wouldn't prank you," Alphonse pointed out knowingly. "He would never consider playing these tricks on General Grumman."

"I'm honoured" Mustang said dryly.

He was very surprised to find that he was being half truthful with that comment. Perhaps Edward didn't exactly like him (he made that more than clear on a regular basis) but if he had even just a little of the volatile young alchemist's trust then he knew that he had to be doing something right after all.

Still... couldn't he have expressed that small amount of trust in _other_ ways? Mustang dismissed this thought instantly with a sigh. Flowery speeches of devotion were just not how they did things.

"At the very least he knows how you would react," Alphonse continued. "He knows that you two provoke each other, but you'll _never_ hurt each other.

It was incredibly ridiculous to feel touched by a statement like that, which had obviously come from Edward, but Mustang couldn't help it. In the early days, in particular, when neither of them knew the other very well, he had often been wary of the fact that Edward could easily deliver him a metal fist to the face in a fit of temper. And Edward had likely wondered if Mustang would just snap (metaphorically and literally) one day in irritation. But, no matter how Edward ranted and raved and leapt about, yelling himself hoarse, or how Mustang had developed the habit of actually rubbing his forefinger and thumb together when provoked to the extreme, they had never actually ever made a move to harm one another. So, as time had passed, they had kept pushing at that boundary, backing off when the other wasn't in the mood for games (such as when Mustang was reminded suddenly of his time in Ishbal or when Edward was discouraged over not finding anything), and just generally annoying the hell out of each other.

It was a very odd sort of relationship, really. It wasn't quite friendship, nor what was it a relationship that one might find between a father and his son (though, from how Mustang had heard Edward talking about his father, the kid might just consider that differently) but it existed somewhere amongst all that, a tangled mess of an island floating apart from all the other ties Mustang had. It was not as strong as the tie he had with Hawkeye or Hughes, in fact, it could be quite frail sometimes since only one comment was enough to upset the apple cart. But it was strong enough for them to right it and start over, or to put aside their arguments when it was important, and the overwhelmingly solid tie told Mustang that the two of them were pretty much unable to tear themselves away. This constant game of one-up-man-ship was their outward interaction, but words ran beneath the insults that no one, sometimes not even Mustang and Edward themselves, would ever be able to understand.

It was unique to them, and there was not anyone else quite like Edward. Sometimes Mustang thought that he was slightly fond of the kid (he certainly missed his larger than life presence when he was away, though he'd never admit it), though there were times, like right now, when he was glad for the peace and quiet his absence brought them.

"He could at least time these things better," Mustang said, walking to his desk and beginning to shuffle papers, running an eye over the neat pile of paperwork he and Grumman were about to go through together, choosing not to comment on the statement Alphonse had just made. "General Grumman is due to arrive for a meeting very soon and he will be sitting in the very chair your brother so generously redesigned for me."

"It's fixed now," Alphonse said.

"That isn't the point. And there's no telling what else Fullmetal has messed with in here."

"True."

The two looked around the room carefully. Nothing jumped out at them as being out of place or suspicious, so if there _was_ anything else it was hiding. At least the desk and the chair were fine (Mustang had leaned on it warily before Alphonse had arrived and had been relieved when it remained sturdy), which meant Grumman wouldn't be getting caught in any of the petty pranks meant for Mustang.

"Everything _looks_ okay," Alphonse said hesitantly, a little doubt creeping into his voice.

Mustang put down the pile of important papers with a sigh, glad that Edward had at least refrained from making any changes to them (he had done so a few days ago, which had gotten the staff talking yet again, and Mustang had been reading through everything diligently ever since, earning Edward the eternal respect and thanks of Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, which was really unfair). Everything else certainly looked to be in order.

"It will have to do," Mustang said reluctantly, conscious of the time. "Thank you, Alphonse."

"It was no problem, sir."

"Perhaps you ought to track down your brother before he manages to get himself into any more mischief." Mustang grimaced at the very thought. "This was more than enough excitement for one morning, I think."

"Good idea," Alphonse said resignedly, moving toward the door. "Good luck with your meeting, sir."

Mustang wanted to say he wouldn't need the luck, but he was still paranoid over Edward messing things up in his office so he didn't protest it.

He had barely begun sorting the paperwork again, making certain everything was really in order before he let Grumman look at it, when a knock sounded on the door, signalling another intrusion. Looking up he was glad to see Hawkeye standing on the threshold, though not so glad to see the paperwork she was holding.

"More?" he sighed, already dreading to have to go through all of it in fifteen minutes.

"For after the meeting," Hawkeye corrected.

"Something to look forward to, then," Mustang said glumly

Hawkeye's lips twitched up slightly into the barest hint of a smile. At East City headquarters the secret of Mustang's hatred of (and subsequent procrastination of) his paperwork was as well known as Edward's distaste for the military and the verbal battles the two of them partook in on a regular basis. It was one of those secrets that no one talked of but everyone knew about.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc mentioned that there was some form of chaos in here this morning," Hawkeye said, putting the papers on a clean area of the desk.

Mustang remembered the yell that had escaped him the moment he had seen what had happened to his chair. Now that he thought about it perhaps it was that, rather than some mysterious knowledge of exactly when his older brother was up to something, that had alerted Alphonse to the fact that something was wrong.

Or perhaps he had just seen Edward racing away, cackling madly. That would be enough to raise anyone's red flag of alarm.

"It's fine," Mustang said, rolling his eyes. "Fullmetal had been here."

"I see," Hawkeye said.

Mustang didn't doubt that she understood instantly, and she didn't really need to say anything more. That one statement was enough to convey everything that she needed to know. Edward was a veritable whirlwind and he left a trail of bedlam and destruction in his wake, no matter where he was or what he was doing.

"I assume everything has been fixed then?" Hawkeye asked after a moment.

"Alphonse fixed it," Mustang assured her, carefully uncapping a pen and involuntarily flinching lest ink squirt at him; he had forgotten to check the stationary, and who knew what Edward's creative, genius mind could come up with. Thankfully this one, at least, seemed fine... for now. He scowled. "Where does he keep getting all these ideas?"

"He has yet to do something twice," Hawkeye agreed.

Mustang decided that he was imagining the tightly concealed amusement that he thought he could hear in her voice.

"He has far too much time on his hands," Mustang grumbled. "Have any new missions come through yet?"

"Just a remind that the higher command are insistent about you finding someone for border control as you have yet to send anyone."

"I _could_..."

"Don't even think about it, sir."

"But..."

"No, sir."

Mustang sighed, frustrated, and gave up. She just wasn't seeing the benefits of it! It would certainly solve their problem; Edward would be gone for awhile, leaving them to relish the peace, and he would get something to do, preventing him from driving everyone up the wall out of boredom. Yes, it was potentially dangerous... but the kid was a State Alchemist for a reason. He had survived far worse than that!

Unfortunately Hawkeye wouldn't see that, she would only see him sending his youngest subordinate off to help with a dangerous situation. Not to mention Alphonse would probably dangle him out the window if he found out (Mustang wouldn't have thought him capable, but he had caught the gentle boy doing so to one of three soldiers that had ganged up on Edward and surprised him; Mustang had walked away, pretending that he had seen nothing, and the soldiers certainly weren't owning up to being scared away by a thirteen year old). So Edward had to stay and Mustang would have to continue watching his every step.

"The general is due soon, sir," Hawkeye said when she was satisfied that he wouldn't mention the Aerugean border again.

"I know," Mustang said tersely, sorting through the last few pages. "Damn brat, making everything ten times harder than it should be."

"It was probably a good thing that you went through it beforehand anyway, sir," Hawkeye pointed out calmly.

Mustang shot her a sour look. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Not at all, sir."

Oddly Mustang found that he couldn't believe her. Had the pranks affected his work in any way she would have put an instant stop to them long ago. But, for the most part, the childish tricks had actually improved his work ethic; he was working quicker, diligently checking everything twice, and he was keeping copies of everything just in case. With that effect then she could afford to put up with a few distractions, much to Mustang's dismay.

"At least you're finished and the office is clean," Hawkeye added, furthering his belief that she was quite enjoying sitting back and watching the pranks take effect.

"Thanks," Mustang muttered ungraciously, sulking.

"I will let you know when the General has arrived, sir," Hawkeye said, striding toward the door. "Please try to relax."

The moment she was gone Mustang almost dove for the couch, her comment somehow reminding him that he had forgotten to check Edward's favourite piece of furniture. It would be horrifying if Grumman decided to take the couch instead and it collapsed inward or something like that.

Ten minutes later, as he was returning the cushions to their places and righting the coffee table (he had tilted it over to look underneath it) and feeling confident that all was well (and damn the shrimp for making him have to check!), Hawkeye poked her head in the door.

"General Grumman has arrived, sir."

Mustang had two seconds to throw the last pillow on the couch and stand straight and tall before the door opened fully, admitting General Grumman. His smile grew larger as he met Mustang's eyes.

"General," Mustang greeted formally, snapping the man a salute as Hawkeye closed the door and left them alone in the office. He vaguely heard her telling the other soldiers to keep it down before he focused his attention on Grumman.

"Colonel," Grumman returned with a nod. "At ease, man. Have you received the packet of papers I sent to you?"

"The moment I arrived, sir."

"Good, good," Grumman chuckled and walked toward the desk; Mustang felt the tiniest amount of irritation that he had checked the couch for nothing after all. "I saw young Fullmetal as I walking up here. He seemed in a cheerful mood."

'_I bet he was,' _Mustang thought sourly.

"I'm glad," Mustang said aloud instead.

"It is good to see him happy," Grumman agreed, either not noticing or ignoring the less-than pleased intonation in the colonel's voice. "Far too often he is stressing about his missions and what you will say to him when he returns. For one so young it is a burden."

Mustang blinked.

"Sorry?" he asked. "Worried about what I will say?"

"Since he usually comes back with bills and damage following him it isn't rare to hear you telling him off when he returns," Grumman pointed out. "I saw him pacing in front of your door for ten minutes once, telling himself that he didn't care what you thought before he headed in."

Mustang's eyebrows shot up.

"That doesn't sound like Fullmetal," he said.

"Of course not, but he does respect you," Grumman said with a smile as he pulled out the newly remade chair and sat down. "And he might insult you, but I've also heard him telling off others who dare to do the same. He respects your opinion and, on some level, looks up to you as the leading male role model in his life. Now, sit down so we can go through this. We can't spend all our time chatting about our subordinates."

For a moment Mustang stood there, mind reeling with the information that Grumman had just given him about his young major. The brash, arrogant, obnoxious exterior Edward always presented suddenly seemed to fall away. Without meaning to he let a small smile cross his lips as he moved to the chair in front of the desk.

No matter how annoying Edward could be, he was still an invaluable member of Mustang's team, he just showed his loyalty and respect in different ways. Mustang could accept that, because that was just who Edward was. Resisting the urge to laugh out loud he sat down.

He felt it before it actually happened. The smallest of movement from underneath him the moment he sat down and suddenly his stomach was swooping uncomfortably as he tumbled to the ground amongst the pile of wood that had once been a chair, looking more undignified than he had in a very long time. Grumman stared in surprise, though a small grin started to form on his lips.

Mustang lay there for a second and then slowly sat up. Instantly a bit of white paper caught his attention and, as if he was in some sort of trance, he reached out slowly and plucked it from the wreckage. The words on it made his face burn in embarrassment and fury.

_Could stand to lose a few pounds there, colonel._

Mustang crumpled the paper in his fist as Grumman chuckled quietly at the desk.

"_FULLMETAL_!"


End file.
